


makedamnsure

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-08
Updated: 2006-05-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: An unraveling of secrets one year after Justin leaves. Lyrics from the Taking Back Sunday song.





	1. (worst way)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

_And we lay, we lay together just not_  
Too close, too close (How close is close enough?)  
We lay, we lay together just not  
Too close, too close

He had been dreading this for some time now. It was  a cyclical demon Brian had to fight every single fucking December, because December was the one month Justin came back to him. The one fucking month where Brian could be... true.

     Brian watched Justin unpack slowly, taking everything out gingerly and discreetly, until Brian swooped him up and they were on the bed, fully clothed and staring. This was what was different. It was never like this before. They shared some air, some space, some time, and it was snowing out.

  _I'll MAKE DAMN SURE that you can't ever leave_  
No, you won't ever get too far from me  
You won't ever get too far from me  
You won't ever get too far from me  
You won't ever get too far...  


       Fuck this...

       "I hate you for leaving me."

        His blue eyes shot open as if there were a murderer laying between them. It was the middle of the night, their hands, legs, hearts were entwined together. For five short seconds, Justin thought that he was kidding.

_I'm gonna make damn sure_  
I just wanna break you down so badly  
I just wanna break you down so badly (damn sure)  
In the worst way (worst way)

       FLASHBACK: 2003

 They were in the snow together, newly reunited and unbreakable from fucking stupid violinist ex-boyfriends and fucking hangups and trite words. It was four am, and they were having a snowfight. Brian watched Justin's face light up under the street lamp, snow melting the silk in his hair, and he went over to him and hugged him from the back, whispering to him how much he loved this, missed this. Needed him. Justin's face fell onto Brian's shoulder and waited for Brian's lips to find his, out of all the lips in the world. Soon Brian's hands were on his waist and they rocked together slowly, coldly, feeling the slick January weather slide down their jackets.

        "Don't leave me," he said, closing his eyes and waiting for the sky to fall.

         "I won't," he said, not sure if he really meant it but wanting to, since Brian was the earth, and if he had no solid ground to stand on, he would wither.

      Suddenly it was the middle of the night again, three years later. It was snowing. It wasn't quite January, but here they were. Justin climbed over, across Brian's back to see him face to face. He watched the stifled tears falling, and he hated everyone in his life for being so supportive on him leaving. He hated having to make choices between love and money, and he hated Brian for never opening his goddamned mouth when it was appropriate.

         "I never expected this," Brian started to say, tears pooling at the curve of his chin, some making their way to his small, petite brown nipple.

          And all he could do was to hold him, and hear him cry the tears that Justi just couldn't, the tears that Justin had cried for their relationship in the past six fucking years of his life, and he felt the life escape in his breath. What could he do? 

           "Fuck you, you ASSHOLE!" Justin intended to shout it but it came out as a screaming whisper, something that opened Brian's eyes and removed Brian's hand from his own.

            "I hate you. I hate this. I hate my fucking life. You never fucking call me, and I am so goddamn alone..." This was the vitriol Brian spewed late at night, only to Justin, only when he was stone-cold sober, so he knew exactly what he was saying to the one person who could hear him.

             Justin felt like making coffee and pouring it down Brian's throat, hot and disparate and insanely jealous that Brian only says things like this when he wants something.

            "I...you are so FUCKING STUPID! How can you tell me this NOW? You had five years, Brian, five fucking beautiful messed-up years with me, and then fucking five hours before I leave you, you had SO MANY chances to tell me...I can't, I need you so much, I can't..."

            Brian loved intensely how the words that were supposed to come out harshly came out like love letters...this was the day he waited for...this was the hangover that never came, the lover that never left...this was his life with his former partner, his former everything, and all he wanted was to tell Justin to stay in his heart, to break him down and hold him until his body became goo and he couldn't treat Justin like the he did, how SHITTY he treated him...

_A long night spent with your most obvious weakness_  
You start shaking at the thought you are everything I want   
'Cause you are everything I'm not

_MAKE DAMN SURE_

 

 

 


	2. (how close is close enough?)

_Scissor shaped across the bed, you are red, violent red_

all of a sudden he was inside of him, crying and screaming, and they were holding onto one another for dear fucking life. Brian moved slowly towards the end, hovering over him like a spirit that never went away, he watched justin reach out to his face and brian grabbed his hand, moving it towards his heart, and that was how they came, their eyes staring violently at one another, their hands over Brian's heart.

      out came the cigarettes and the anger. again.

              "I wish you would stop this. Just, fucking stop."

      They each had one, after quitting when brian's cancer scare brought them both back to reality they needed two fucking cartons to deal with their shit.

                "Stop what? You should be happy, I'm telling you that I can't fucking SURVIVE without you."

               "Bullshit. Why now? What, do you have brain cancer? Are you dying?"

                     _You hollow out my hungry eyes_

That was ten shots below the belt, and Justin watched as Brian's eyes quickly went from casual cloudiness to hurt, harsh discomfort.

                 "Brian, I"

       Brian got up, wrapped a sheet around his naked skin and went somewhere else, somewhere that was not the bedroom. As Justin slowly sat up, stubbed out his cigarette and berated himself for being such an idiot, he realized that this is what it all came down to: death battles at five a.m. and i-hate-you's at six. This was their life. He needed to come home. He quietly padded into the living room, slipping on Brian's briefs and suddenly wanted to die.

                   _Well I trip over everything you say_

     he sat on the floor, back to the door, sheet pooled around his waist. His eyes were open, and he sat staring at the floor, legs up against his chest like an emo kid waiting for his girlfriend to finish applying her makeup. this was more than just words, this was five years of never saying shit, this was relationships failing and rebuilding, love dying and reforming, it was nothing and all. he felt Justin's presence at the right side of his body, and even though he hated him, he wrapped his arms around him when Justin leaned into him, his face settling on his shoulder, both of them crying and feeling more like women than they ever have before.

      "I need you in my life, Justin. I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry? That I was the biggest fuck-up in the entire world for letting you go once, and then I willingly do it again? We are so dysfunctional, fucking all of my fault, you should just get the fuck out of here while you still can."

      justin didn't leave his arms, he felt brian's words on his skin. they were stinging and honest, and they were more fucked up than anything. but if they were at least having this conversation, then they were on the road to recovery.

       "thank you for finally saying it. i've been waiting for five years."

        brian stared at him.

       "you finally told me that i'm free to go. the other two times it was so fucking planned that i was surprised."

             _In the worst way (worst way)_  
  



	3. ( I bite my tounge. I take my time and)

                       _And I've got my veins all tangled close_

            for breakfast they had shots of tequila. shared a lime. it was ten a.m., and they were partially drunk, partially in love, and brian knew that they had to make a move to stay alive.

            "lets buy house, jus. i want to do this right."

        and justin didn't swoon. he simply asked "where"

       "new york. fuck pittsburgh. i have so much fucking money. now i can finally take photography classes. fuck corporate."

    it was then justin realized that brian had to give up everything to become a success: a happy family life, a home, friends, a boyfriend. his calling. 

    it was then that justin held onto him and whispered in his ear "you don't have to sacrifice me for success" and he finally witnessed brian break down, and it was validation and security and sad thoughts, because brian possessed such a kind heart.

as they slept together one last time in the loft brian held justin and he watched it all unfold; they would marry and have a baby, and brian could finally say that yes, he was the father of two brilliant children, and yes, this is my husband. they would fuck on hot nights in july and he would come inside justin freely, and when justin would fuck him and he would be complete, they would hold each other and feel life inside of them, feel alive and love and complete, unparalled love. they would buy a real home somewhere in new york, and brian would finally go back to school and major in photography, fulfilling a dream no one had ever encouraged before. he would take pictures of everything and justin would own a gallery; sell his own art in his own gallery, and they would be everything that they never thought they could be, forever, and finally free of the things that haunted them

                         _And we lay, we lay together_


End file.
